


La chèvre de Monsieur Seguin

by Sol_Invictus



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/pseuds/Sol_Invictus
Summary: Eventually Morse had started to dance with death and thought (the poor fool) he could win, as if the goat could escape the big wolf’s sharp teeth.





	La chèvre de Monsieur Seguin

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the French short story _Monsieur Seguin's Goat_ ( _La chèvre de Monsieur Seguin_ in French). It is a cautionary tale warning about the dangers and temptations of freedom through a goat's escape from its field and its eventual death by the wolf.

All of this had been awfully predictable. Thursday had seen it right away: the lively intelligent eyes, the blunt deductions, the grand ideals. _This boy is a wild one_ he had thought, and he had been right. His fondness for Morse had blinded him. He should have tightened the leash more. Instead Thursday had let him roam and drift for too long, and the boy had gotten a taste for freedom. His eyes had been yearning for it. He had wanted the glory without the shackles, like many ambitious newbies. Thursday had foolishly thought he only needed time. After all, the chap was young. He would come around, he would eventually understand.

But Morse didn’t. Instead he had pretended he could do as he pleased, and be as free as a runaway goat. Thursday had watched him dance and roam, perhaps wishing secretly he could do the same. Eventually Morse had started to dance with death and thought (the poor fool) he could win, as if the goat could escape the big wolf’s sharp teeth. He ended up like all the others: dead. His bright blue eyes were now lifeless, although glassy- as if the young fool had wanted to weep for his wretched fate. Thursday cried in his place, and put his coat over the dead wild boy. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that death was, in a way, freedom but it brought no comfort. Indeed, the only true freedom was death and Morse, like all the others to have fallen before him, had understood this too late.


End file.
